


A New Friend

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid is slowly getting used to the crew of the Ark, but some are stranger than others</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Friend

“Get back to your berth, please.”

The black and white bot that had been about to make a break for the exit paused in his tracks, frame still curved around one of the berths as if using it as cover.

“Please?” The helm tipped to one side in contemplation before the bot stood up and padded over to First Aid, a slight limp still in his stride as he stared at the medbot. “And you are?”

“First Aid.”

The bot blinked, visor flashing as he grinned. “Ratchets new apprentice? Huh, you already gone one better than the ole-wrench throwing glitch.”

Aid frowned at the slight to his mentor, “I have?”

“Uhuh.” The bot nodded as he leaned his helm towards the medbot before saying in a confidential whisper. “You have a bedside manner.” Having said that the bot limped back to his berth and hopped up. “And since ya asked so nice I’ll humour you.”

“Jazz!” The black and white bot cringed as the designation rang through the medbay.

“Right here Ratch.” The bot said with a quick grin and a cheery wave as the older medic leant against the doorframe, optics narrowed as he stared at the bot now exuding innocence.

“He’s not giving you any trouble is he Aid?” The question was accompanied by the appearance of a much dented and well loved wrench.

“Now Ratch, would I give a new friend trouble?” Jazz said as he shot the younger medic a smile. Ratchet made a noise of disbelief as he absently twirled the wrench still in his hand.

“No, he’s fine.” First Aid said, Jazz rattling his armour in relief as Ratchet nodded, the wrench disappearing as he returned to his office.

“So...” Jazz said as he stared at the apprentice medic as he drummed a hand on the side of his berth. First Aid frowned as he remembered one of Ratchets many warnings about the odd crew of the Ark.

 _“Feel free to disable the vocal processors of the twins and Huffer unless you like listening to constant moaning and if you want any peace and quiet do not let Bluestreak start talking or let Jazz get bored.”_

At the time First Aid had merely given Ratchet a rather horrified glance at such a barbaric suggestion, however being faced with the rather predatory look on the faceplates of the bot apparently designated Jazz; it seemed that Ratchet may have had a point.


End file.
